


Cold and Tired and Sore and Cranky

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a cold, dark night.  Blair is (insert title). Jim solves his issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold and Tired and Sore and Cranky

## Cold and Tired and Sore and Cranky

by Kitipurr

Borrowed them, played with them, put them back when I was done. Don't own 'em (yet), that honor goes to Petfly. Please don't sue, or I'll have to move in with my mother, and thus there will be matricide.

I wrote this in 98 degree weather, 90 percent humidity. With cats on my lap.

Romantic? Maybe. Silly? Maybe. Dirty? Maybe. Just a little something to tide us all over? Maybe.

* * *

"Hm... Jim?" 

"... wha..." 

"Jim?" 

"Sandburg? What?" 

"The heater went out again." 

"Shit." 

"s'cold." 

"No kidding... Hey, watch the toes, Chief." 

"m'cold." 

"You're always cold. Keep those ice cubes to yourself." 

"You're warm." 

"And I'm keeping my warmth to myself. Scram, Frosty." 

"Fine." (Rustle of bedding.) 

"Chief?" 

"Hm?" 

"Can I have my share of the covers back?" 

"No. You're toes are warm. Mine are cold. You said so yourself. Thus, I am in greater need of the blankets than you." 

"Uh huh..." 

"You said." 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. You may press your incredibly cold feet next to mine, okay?" 

"Nope, I'm fine now." 

"Come on, Blair, please?" 

"What do you say?" 

"Sheesh. Okay: I'm sorry, I apologize, I'm an idiot, you are my god and country, I am unworthy..." 

"And?" 

"And you were right, okay?" 

"Hm... well, okay. I guess that will do for now." (Rustle of bedding.) 

"Are you sure you're not related to the iceberg that sunk the 'Titanic', Chief?" (Rustle of bedding.) "Sorry, sorry, sorry." 

"Don't try to be cute, Jim. I'm cold and tired and sore and cranky." 

"C'mere... there. Warm enough?" 

"Hm... it's a start. What the hell time is it, anyway?" 

"Uh... two twenty-eight." (Groan from colder side of bed.) "Hey, think positive, we don't have to worry too much about being late - we'll sleep in a little and tell Simon the truck was so cold it wouldn't start." 

"Think he'll buy it?" 

"Probably not, but he won't be able to argue it either. Besides, this cold snap has even the most diligent criminals staying home to keep warm." 

"Okay, so that will take care of 'tired', and your working on 'warm'..." 

"Ah, so now I have to work on 'sore' and 'cranky', huh?" 

"mm-hmm." 

"Let's see here... how's that feel?" 

"Ooooh, oh yeah... little lower... yeah, right there..." 

"Next time you'll remember that you want to land on your feet instead of your back." 

"I didn't exactly PLAN on landing on my back, Jim. I lost my balance." 

"You never lost your balance doing the wall at the academy." 

"I never did the wall while chasing a transvestite and wearing purple pumps at the academy. You'd think they'd mention the possibility of that... Oh, yeah, there... oh god, that hurts..." 

"Should I stop?" 

"No. Good hurt." 

"Ah. Did I mention how cute you look dressed as a transvestite?" 

"No, and if you don't want to be restricted to parties with Mister Hand on the couch for the next month, you won't, either. I had to mention I knew the area... me and my big mouth. Never, never, never again, Jim. I don't get paid enough. Next time, I say we mutiny and make Simon do the transvestite undercover job." 

(Snorting laughter from warmer side of bed.) "Geez, don't put that image in my head!" 

"Dare I ask?" 

"Simon in a red push-up tube top, leather mini, fish nests and red spiked heels. And false eyelashes!" (Matching laughter from cold side of bed.) 

"Oh man! I can picture it!" 

"Can you picture him explaining it to Daryl?" 

"Can you picture Daryl using it against him for the rest of his life?" 

"Can you picture Simon explaining it to Joan?" (A pair of matching giggle fits.) "Have I achieved 'non-cranky' yet?" 

"I think so. For the next few months, if I need a pick-me-up, I will use a mental image of Simon in drag." 

"With bright red lipstick, smoking his cigar." (New fits of laughter.) "How's the back feeling, babe?" 

"Much better, thank you." 

"So, you're no longer cold, or sore, or cranky..." 

"But still tired." 

"How tired?" 

"Hm... I suppose that would depend on how much energy I would need to expand." 

"What if I were to say - none?" 

"It's never 'none', Jim." 

"Well... how about this?" (Sucking noises, quickly followed by panting.) "Like that, huh?" 

"Uh... huh... yeah... oh, other one... god..." (Sucking noises, more panting.) "Oooh... Jim..." 

"Hm?" 

"Jim..." 

"Enjoying yourself?" 

"Uh-huh..." (More sucking noises, kissing noises, squeaking noises.) "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah..." 

"Hmmm..." (Deep throated chuckles.) "How's this, babe?" 

"GOD, JIM!!!" (Chuckles, suckles, licking noises, shallow panting, deep groans.) "Uh... oh, fuck!!! More, Jim, please!" 

"You want more?" 

"Please, Jim, fill me, PLEASE!" 

"Wouldn't that require too much energy from y..." (SMACK!! Laughter.) "Okay, okay... feel that? That's one, baby. You like that?" 

"Ohhh..." 

"Yeah, so tight, Chief... so fucking tight..." 

"Uuuuuuuuuunnnnnnn" 

"There's two, baby. I'm spreading you wide, making you ready for me." 

**"JIIIIMMMM!!!!"**

"Ready for three?" 

"Fuck it, skip three, go straight to the Little Captain already!!" (Tender laughter, sound of drawer opening. Sound of cap being popped open, squishing noises.) 

"I'm getting ready for you, lover. Gonna fill you, baby. Gonna fill you up and make you mine forever." 

"Already yours, babe... Forever, Jim... Come on, TAKE me..." (Slick noises, sounds of grunting, sounds of sliding, deep moans.) 

"Jesus, Blair... you're so tight... just like our first time..." 

"God, Jim... uh..." 

"Are you okay, babe?" 

"Yeah... hang on... uh... okay... yeah, okay, more..." 

"You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?" 

"Wish I could see you." 

"You want the light?" 

**"NOW?!!?"**

"Never mind." (Stop of all sounds. Pause. Small grunt, sounds of slow movement, skin sliding in slickness.) 

"What do you see, Jim? Tell me what you see..." 

"Ohh... baby, only you. So beautiful, Blair. So handsome, gorgeous. Fuck..." 

"Slow, Jim, easy. Make it last... Oh, yeah... just like that... yeah..." 

"You're eyes are completely dilated in the dark... You're hair is all over the place, so wild and crazy... soft, like strands of silk..." 

"Uh... god, Jim... love you... faster, please!" (Increasing grunts, deep moans, faster panting, sounds of slapping skin." "MORE! GOD, JIM!!!" 

"Got you in my hand, Chief. Feel that? That's me holding you, stroking you... love to touch you, babe." 

**"FASTER! PLEASE, JIM! OHHH!!!"**

"Almost there... UHHHH!!! BLAIR!!!!" 

"UUUUUHHHHHHHH!!!! JIIIIIIIIIMMMMM" (Faster pants, inarticulate wail.) 

(Sudden stop of sounds. Pause.) 

"Gotta... (pant)... gotta pull out, babe." 

"Uh-huh..." (Sound of plastic top opening, extraction of tissues, top clicked shut. Pause. Slight 'thunk' at side of bed.) 

"There. All clean. You okay, babe?" 

"Hmmm..." 

"Blair?" (Soft snores from cold side of bed. Deep chuckle from warm side of bed. Sound of alarm being turned off. Rustle of bedding.) 

"Guess that'll take care of tired." (Sounds of deep breathing. Sudden chuckle.) "God, I hope Simon isn't cranky tomorrow..." 

**END**

* * *

End Cold and Tired and Sore and Cranky by Kitipurr: meow9x@aol.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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